


Then When I Met You, My Virtues Uncounted

by punto_y_coma



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Banter, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Romantic Fluff, Short One Shot, So Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punto_y_coma/pseuds/punto_y_coma
Summary: First kiss, because Crowley asked nicely...





	Then When I Met You, My Virtues Uncounted

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished Good Omens and I'm soFT!

"Angel, are you sure?" Crowley removed his glasses and placed them next to the old turntable Aziraphale loved so much. "This is uncharted territory."

"I know," Aziraphale gulped. "But I suppose there is a first time for everything and since you asked so nicely..." he reached for the lapels of Crowley's jacket; it was old leather, worn down by the years, soft.

"' _Nice_ '," Crowley repeated, scrunching his nose. "I'm not nice."

"Semantics," Aziraphale made a dismissive gesture with his hand, taking a step closer towards the demon. "I'm waiting," he said; it wasn't impatient or demanding, it was more like a little encouragement, enthusiastic, letting Crowley know that he had finally caught up with him.

Crowley cocked his head, a crooked smile playing on his lips as he pressed them against Aziraphale's. He had expected to find it painful, after all, stepping on consecrated ground made him squirm. Yet here they were, pushing their luck, for what could be holier than an angel's lips? It was... Intoxicating? Was that the right word? He had never known disease but the feverish dizziness he felt could only be explained that way: his skin tingled, his stomach felt like lead and he tasted something sickeningly sweet with the tip of his tongue. A sigh later, the demon took a step back; if he had a fully functioning heart, it would have skipped a beat seeing Aziraphale, eyes still closed, leaning towards the empty space he had left.

"Did it hurt?" Crowley asked.

"It burned a little," Aziraphale couldn't lie but he let out a nervous giggle when he saw Crowley's thinly veiled concern. "No, don't worry, it burned like spicy food sometimes does, see? Just a tickle. And a whole lot more pleasant."

Crowley then arched his eyebrow, cocky and proud. "How pleasant?" his right hand started to undo Aziraphale's bowtie, while his left reached for the back of his head, bringing their faces together again. "Enough to tempt you for more?" it was said as a mixture between a growl and a whisper and it took Aziraphale by surprise, making him jump in his grasp, making him grab Crowley's jacket even tighter.

"Oh!"

There was something people often forgot about Aziraphale; he was good, yes, but he had an appetite. It only took a sip for him to know a great wine and still he would empty the bottle all by himself. And so it wasn't entirely out of character when he shoved Crowley to the nearest bookshelf, a little too enthusiastically, and silenced his next devilish quip with his own lips. His fingers played with the demon's red hair; going by sensation alone, he could have sworn his hands were holding a small flame.

"Your hair," Aziraphale said breathily, his forehead still pressed to Crowley's, "it feels like fire."

Crowley didn't want to tell him that his hair felt like a cloud, it was too cheesy and also the truth, so he rolled his eyes at him and busied himself undoing the multitude of buttons of his waistcoat and shirt.

"So many layers," he complained.

"It gets chilly in the evenings, you know that, Crowley!" Aziraphale was idly touching his side, under the grey t-shirt he was wearing, it was distracting.

"There!" after some long minutes, Crowley jumped in triumph, the angel's torso finally bare. Aziraphale smiled sweetly at him, silently thanking him for not ripping his clothes; he had, after all, kept them in beautiful condition for 150 years.

"You could've miracled that," Aziraphale added, just to wind him a bit.

"You," Crowley dragged him closer, holding his arms tight, keeping him in place, "are," he kissed him hard, "infuriating," he started kissing his neck, then his chest; every peck he placed on Aziraphale's skin punctuated by a sizzling sound, leaving a faint mark that flew away like vapor.

"Oh! Oh, God!" Aziraphale gulped and gasped.

"Shhh!" Crowley looked up to reprimand him, his nose tickled Aziraphale's esternum as he did.

"Sorry! Do go on," the angel patted his head softly, because he didn't know what else to do.

Crowley kept kissing his way down, working on Aziraphale's belt as he did.

"Oh, my God!" Aziraphale said again.

This time, Crowley stopped altogether, standing back up to glare at him, almost disappointed.

"What's wrong?" Aziraphale asked.

"You're either taking the Almighty's name in vain or you're actually praying as I'm trying to fuck you!" Aziraphale let out a hearty laugh and hid his face in his hands, red all over. "Either way, someone from your side might come looking for someone in desperate need of assistance and let's just say I don't want an audience," Crowley smiled mischievously, savoring the fond way Aziraphale looked at him.

"I'll behave," Aziraphale promised.

"You always do, angel," Crowley kissed his smile sweetly, trying to fit six thousand years of caring in that one gesture: impossible but he tried his damnedest. "You always do."

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are love <3   
> Come talk to me at my tumblr (@aralisj) if you want :)


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